For some unknown reason, I have always bought British, starting with a Ford Escort (Mk 2) Popular Plus, winding up with the present Rover 25 (OK, that's Japanese to all intents and puposes, apart from the steering wheel badge).

Favourite: the Triumph Acclaim. Remarkable performance, mainly because the chassis and bodywork were very light gauge, which eventually became its downfall. Once corrosion set in, I could not grind away the rusty bits fast enought to keep up with the rot. On one of its last trips, I could see a shower of rusty fragments from the disintegrating passenger door in the rear view mirror.

Least favourite: a Rover 216S. This had a HIF carburettor, with a potentially lethal "feature". It did not like trips to the seaside. Every time I returned from visiting my parents in Pembrokeshire, the float would stick in the chamber. Pulling away from lights was a progression of stutters and rabbit hops. I thought that was the worst of it until I tried pulling off the M6. On the slip road, I took my foot off the throttle and the car accelerated, with a full-rich gurgle from the exhaust. I didn't have much time to hit clutch and brakes, and turn the ignition off to prevent the engine revving itself out of the bonnet (also dangerous; if I had turned the ignition key all the way round in panic, it would have locked the steering).

Someone I once worked for bought a Turbo Montego. He had no idea of economical driving, constantly pressing and releasing the throttle, releasing burps of unburned hydrocarbons from the turbo with every change, and in the process jerking my head back and forth to give a very tiring trip. After a journey down the A1 in which he recorded 20 miles per gallon he went back to a gigantic Mercedes.